


between the flower and the water

by Timpeni



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: 2symbolic4u, F/F, Introspection, doesnt make sense half of the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6212116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timpeni/pseuds/Timpeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobunaga is everything Okita is never supposed to love.</p><p>(Mostly Nobunaga-centric, until around the end.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	between the flower and the water

**Author's Note:**

> sorry guys i wanted to make it happy i swear

In Okita’s time, people did not marry for love.

With the era on the verge of change, the Japanese held onto their centuries-long beliefs for as much as they could, till it was pried out their hands with gunpowder and smoke. Marriage was not for love, and love was seen as nothing but lust, a desire for physical contact, a temptation of the floating world.

Of course, not everyone subscribed to this thinking. Even in the most restrictive of societies, humans are humans. If you fell in love with someone you could never marry, someone of different class, or someone from an enemy clan, it would be a constant fight-- between _ninjo,_ human emotion, and _giri,_ social obligation. But even if _ninjo_ won, there would be no real solution to a happy life together, because adultery is a capital offense and being disowned would be akin to death.

Hundreds of Japanese playwrights and artists in the Edo era wrote on this. They romanticized it, the tragedy of love, a constant Romeo and Juliet scenario that played out over and over again, except no one learns in the end, and it happens again, again, again--

At the end of each story, the lovers would embark on a _michiyuki,_ a poetical walk on the roadside, reminding each other why they are in love, and the happiness they have brought each other. Then, they would kill each other, or watch the each other die, because _shinjū_ is the only solution when you are in love-- dying together is the only way to escape _giri_ and embrace the floating world.

Okita thinks it’s all absolute nonsense. There is no sense in dying without purpose. There is no point in defying _giri_ when it is what she lives by, and what she fought to protect.

“Despite your fighting skill and horrible temper, you’re actually pretty old-fashioned, aren’t you?” Nobunaga laughs at Okita’s face, and she very nearly cuts the shorter girl down with her sword out of reflex. “What, aren’t you almost two hundred years ahead of me? You sound like my grandmother.”

“Loyalty to your comrades and protecting my way of life is _not_ old-fashioned,” Okita retorts, and she doesn’t even know how they began this conversation. But it isn’t surprising-- speaking with Okita comes with the unstipulated agreement that she _will_ bring up the Shinsengumi at some point and gush endlessly about them, about their mission, about how much they fought, who they fought for-- “Just because you reject such notions doesn’t make you any better.”

And Nobunaga only smiles. “Does it make _you_ better than me?”

Okita almost says _yes,_ but she simply doesn’t respond, because they were both the losers in history.

(Nobunaga waited for the rain to come, and Okita waited for the rain to stop. Neither of them lived to see it.)

Instead, she lets out a scowl, sheathing her sword and continuing their journey on the foggy streets of London. Nobunaga doesn’t say anything more, only speaking with her glowing red eyes and Cheshire grin, blending into both the mist and the darkness of Okita’s thoughts far too easily, like the way the pitter-patter of rain melts into the background of a cloudy day.

\---

For all intents and purposes, Nobunaga really is a demon.

She can change her form into anything, but always chooses the stature of a young girl. Okita doesn’t understand it, probably never will, but she knows enough to understand Nobunaga doesn’t need good reasons to do anything, and that’s what makes Nobunaga so utterly terrifying.

Just like a demon, she does what her whims demand of her. She rejects conventional notions, subscribing to her own morality, and her individualistic pursuit of self-interest was shocking even during the Warring States era. In a time where everyone was backstabbing each other and allies meant nothing, to stand out as _the Demon King_ amongst all that chaos means something special.

“Okitaaa!” Upon hearing her name, Okita barely stirs from her place, continuing to enjoy her tea. She _isn’t_ moving an inch for Nobunaga. “Okitaaa, where are you? I’ve got a present!”

“Oh, no,” Okita mutters. She hasn’t heard that before, and it doesn’t sound nice. But, she supposes being ambushed from behind isn’t too preferable, so she finally puts her teacup down, walking towards Nobunaga’s direction.

Upon seeing her turn the corner, Nobunaga smiles from ear to ear. “There you are!”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want anything to do with it,” Okita deadpans.

“How cruel,” Nobunaga says with a click of her tongue, but she doesn’t actually seem hurt. “Not even if I made a toy for you?”

 _What--_ “A… toy?”

Nobunaga steps back, as if giving them both a wide berth in preparation for a grand reveal. Okita half-expects her to produce a bomb and try to kill her, or a gun and see if she can slice it in half quickly enough to not be shot in the head. It wouldn’t be the first time Nobunaga has done that, and definitely not the last. She’s not beyond dirty tricks, not at all.

Okita’s hands fly to the hilt of her sword as Nobunaga pulls something out of her bag. Her sword flies out from its scabbard in one swift reflex action, and she lops off the top of the doll’s head.

As the soft yarn drifts onto the floor, Okita suddenly relaxes her arm, mostly out of surprise than anything else. “...It was actually a toy,” she mutters, looking at the little stuffed doll in Nobunaga’s hands. It’s made of knitted yarn and looks very, very soft, but it’s not the most well-made, and Okita isn’t exactly sure what it’s supposed to be.

“Come on, what’s with that reaction?” Nobunaga laughs, as if she was expecting that. As if she expects _everything_ Okita does, because to her, Okita is unfailingly predictable. “You chopped my tiny version’s hat off!”

Okita puts her sword back, momentarily speechless, before realizing what the doll is supposed to be. Yes, those huge red eyes, a head that makes up half of it’s body… even if it’s strangely deformed with one armstub longer than another, it’s unmistakeable.

“...Why would I ever want a toy of your tiny splinter clones?” She had enough trouble slicing through all of them before, thanks. “And why did you make this?”

“I realized I’ve never knitted before on my life, so I decided to give it a try,” Nobunaga answers simply. “It is just as boring as it looks, but oddly satisfying. Of course, you chopped off the hat, which I spent the most time doing, but the rest is still in one piece! Now, you have something to keep the lonely you some company while I’m gone.”

There’s a thousand things Okita could ask, from _what the hell is up with you_ to _why are you giving it to me, what do you mean ‘the lonely you’,_ but she’s wise enough to realize none of it will assuage her confusion. So she bends her knees, picks up the lopped-off hat, and takes the rest of the doll.

The yarn is indeed _very_ soft.

Okita gives the doll and a tentative squeeze, squishing its weird Nobu-face in. “I… thank you?” She isn’t sure what to say at all, turning the doll over, checking for any poison weeds sewn into its lining, or any hidden weapon in there. But there doesn’t seem to be anything-- just fluffy stuffing.

Nobunaga, who seems satisfied with that answer, turns to leave. “Treat it well! It is a token of our rivalry!”

“I didn’t know you were one for tokens of _anything_ ,” Okita mutters, not looking up to watch Nobunaga walk away. She squishes the doll’s face in again, almost hypnotized by its absurd proportions, and she doesn’t see Nobunaga stop in the middle of the hallway to look back at her.

(You could argue that Nobunaga is a monster, a tyrant that goes against Buddhist principles and slaughters the innocent without remorse. But you could also argue that as monstrous as the Demon King is, Nobunaga is the scariest when she is unexpectedly kind.

Okita can never forget, though. One look into her merciless eyes, and she knew. They were destined to fight to the end. Nothing can change that.)

When Okita looks up, Nobunaga is long gone. She’s forgotten about her tea completely, and returns to her room. She puts the doll on her table, and manages to pull a thin piece of string from the end of her scarf. It’s white, which contrasts against the black yarn of tiny Nobu’s hat, but she sews it back on anyway, before deciding it _is_ rather cute, and bringing it up to her face.

She pinches the tiny Nobu doll’s cheeks, before rubbing it against her nose and pitching her voice up. “Who’s a cute Nobu? Who’s a cute Nobu? You are! Yes, you are! So much better than the real one!”

Okay, maybe Okita’s a little lonely.

She loses interest quickly enough, but doesn’t have the heart or the rudeness to toss the doll away. She opens up a drawer, neatly placing it inside, before closing it and hoping no one ever finds it and questions what the hell she’s doing, keeping a doll of the Demon Archer. She goes back to training, and doesn’t think on it for the rest of the day. She forgets about it.

\---

In this new universe, under the same master, Okita can defeat Nobunaga in every skirmish.

It was surprising, at first. Something of a minor scuffle, like how all their arguments start, over lunch or maybe what drinks they should buy. Nobunaga was close enough to use her arquebusier as a bludgeon, and Okita reached out to stop it-- and tosses it right out of her hands with unnatural ease, before grabbing Nobunaga by the shoulders on instinct and throwing her to the ground without a hitch.

This difference in power has something to do with Nobunaga losing some strength in this new world, or something. Her attacks have never truly been entirely effective against Okita-- she is a swordswoman, nothing more and nothing less, just a relatively spectacular one. Without any amount of mystery or divinity to her, Nobunaga’s magic is useless, but her strength and firepower was still a threat. _Was,_ because now, Okita can dash to her side twice as fast, and cut her down in half the time.

It’s so surprising, in fact, that when Okita first won over her in that way, she immediately bent her knees and asked-- “Are you okay?”

But Nobunaga only laughed at her, with a broken, bloody nose, and said: “It cannot be helped!” And then she tried to shoot her in the face, only to be defeated again, again, and again--

It is not to say that Nobunaga accepts that each encounter will end in her loss. Archer beats Saber in this Grail War, after all, and Nobunaga tries her damndest to shoot Okita down whenever it gets to that point. But it’s futile, because Okita always wrenches the muskets out of her hands, pointing her own sword at Nobunaga’s neck without hesitation.

It’s quite strange, how Nobunaga, whose entire life was centered around changing her fate at seemingly hopeless moments, would declare _It cannot be helped_ so often. Okita doesn’t understand it, like everything else about Nobunaga, but-- she can understand the sentiment itself. You cannot control what the world does to you, and what comes your way. But you can always control how you react to it.

(And yet, Nobunaga did not die fighting till her last breath. She did not die in a glorious battle, searching for conquest. She died in a flaming temple, her page protecting her final resting place as she twists a blade in her own stomach. No one ever found her body. Her memory endured, almost more alive in her death than life, and there were so many theories, that Nobunaga did not die at Honnouji, and that the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven will rise again from the ashes, extending her hand of fear across Japan once more.

Okita cannot ever insult her on that point, though. Okita died waiting for the rain to stop.)

“Come on, don’t give up now!” Nobunaga’s voice cuts across the whirr of crackling electricity from Tesla’s hands, and Okita forces herself back to her feet. Everything hurts, all her muscles are aching and she can’t even see straight, but she can still fight. _Archer beats Saber_ indeed, but Tesla is not nearly as strong as Nobunaga was in their previous Grail War, and Okita _knows_ she can defeat him.

He’s not going to last much longer, anyway. Okita can see it in his shaking wrists, legs poised to retreat rather than pounce forward. The constant fighting is beginning to eat away at him, and soon, he’ll be forced to run or face the consequences. “If you give up, you’ll submit yourself to being useless!” Nobunaga’s shrill command, though annoying, manages to make Okita force herself forward, and she breaks into a run. “That’s right! _You can do it if you try!_ All together, now!”

No matter how much Okita might find Nobunaga annoying in her special way, she cannot forget that Nobunaga was a military leader. She knows exactly how to invigorate her soldiers (even if Okita would never allow herself to be called Nobunaga’s retainer of any kind). Even with their current disparity in power, Okita sees Nobunaga as an equal, no matter how much she claims that she’ll best Nobunaga in any match-up. Even as a Shinsengumi captain, she was never the top dog.

But she _was_ one of the most talented, and she shows this now-- in how she thrusts her sword towards Tesla’s neck without hesitation, dashing like the very lightning streaking from his fingers. He barely manages a dodge, so she nicks his shoulder instead. There it is-- the golden opportunity she’s been looking for. She’s close, no other enemy back-up is nearby, she’s drawing her arms back and bending her knees, aiming for Tesla’s abdomen--

And then something horrible, like heartburn and drowning all at once, hits her in the chest like a sledgehammer.

She can feel something shaking inside her, some kind of horrid imbalance, in her stomach, her lungs, her spine-- her knees give way instantly, and she knows exactly what this means. It’s the one thing that could leave Okita helpless. Her eyes go wide with shock, and even Tesla can see it in her face. Something has gone horribly, horribly wrong, and Okita has pushed herself too far.

(Same in death as she is in life.)

“Ah--” Okita can only gasp for air as she hits the floor. This is it, then. She refuses to give up, but she doesn’t even know where her sword is-- did she drop it? How much time has she wasted on the ground? Her vision is going dark at the edges, and she’s going to faint at any moment now. No, she _can’t,_ she can already feel the electricity making her hair stick up, and she’ll die like this again--

She smells gunpowder and ash.

When Okita finally opens her eyes to find out she’s not dead, Tesla is nowhere to be seen, and Nobunaga’s clutching at her injured right arm, twitching from electrocution. She can see Scathach in the distance. Okita's two teammates probably finished Tesla off for her, but while Scathach is agile, her quick attacks aren’t the best. She couldn’t have dived into the fight fast enough to save Okita on her own. Which means, Nobunaga...

“Get up,” Nobunaga orders, and there’s fire blazing in the palm of her hands. Despite having died with fire licking her skin, she has no qualms about using her fire powers as a Servant, accepting what the slaughter at Mount Hiei had given her. The smell of ash, of civilian homes and temples alike burnt to nothing by Nobunaga’s army, like a crowd of rampaging monkeys carrying torches-- it fills Okita’s lungs, and she keels over again before she can even try recovering.

Noticing this, Nobunaga hunches down, making herself even shorter for a moment so it’d be easier to pull Okita’s arms around her. “Hang on,” she says, and Okita somehow manages to obey. Nobunaga isn’t in much better shape, with one arm still practically dead from the fight, but she manages to haul Okita onto her back, before using her Demon King ability to make her tall enough to carry Okita in the first place.

When Okita’s weak constitution hits, she can’t afford to be picky about the help she gets. This is the first time Nobunaga has helped her instead of taking advantage of the situation, but it also makes sense. They’re on the same side, after all. Okita needs to remember that.

The journey back to Chaldea Gate seems far too long, but also too transient to be remembered. Okita falls asleep in her bed immediately. When she wakes up, she’s holding a yarn doll to her chest.

\---

Imagawa Yoshimoto died waiting for the rain to stop.

"Okehazama? Aaah, that battle. Well, to be honest, I outright won that one. Or rather, it was quite a slaughter. I honestly regret it." Nobunaga’s rare moments of somber confession seem to shock their master, but it should also be expected that someone who has caused so much turmoil would have a few significant regrets hanging onto them.

Their master doesn’t question her further, as if afraid of the answer, but Nobunaga would’ve regaled anyone in the tale if they so pleased. She would speak of the magnificent Imagawa army, ten times the Oda’s size. She would speak of the torrential rain mixing with her men’s blood as they camped on the mountain, her advisors waiting to die. She would _crow_ about how she shut all of them down, remembering the ditches and forest paths in the surrounding areas that she played in as a child. She knew the area like the back of her hand. Yoshimoto didn’t.

She would speak of the the rain again, the pitter-patter of water against the back of her head, and she would speak of how they covered her advance towards the main camp. When they broke in, disrupting all the drunk soldiers in the middle of their premature celebrations, the blood on the ground was no longer of her own retainers. It felt good, then, to order every one of her soldiers to chase down the enemy and cut them where they stand. When Yoshimoto’s head rolled on the floor, he didn’t even have time to realize the enemy had infiltrated. He was just in the tents, waiting for the rain to stop.

It felt _powerful._

But once the power wears off, there is nothing but an empty feeling of unresolved resentment, of lives lost, and not just her own. Nobunaga calls herself the Demon King, but she is just as human as any other. If she had lived in a time without war, maybe she would’ve become a village merchant in Owari. A woman growing old selling handmade teapots and dresses.

And she didn’t. Nobunaga never had a chance at that sort of life.

(She says, “It cannot be helped!” Because the era will always pave way for the new, and destroy the old. When her methods became too much for Japan to handle, she was killed. That’s how it is. That’s how it all is. But there’s still this aching feeling, even if she’s proud of Toyotomi Hideyoshi for uniting the land in her stead. It could’ve been her. It should’ve been her.)

“I didn’t think you would’ve kept it,” Nobunaga brings up all of the sudden, when Okita is enjoying tea and Nobunaga simply invites herself to the table.

“The doll?” Okita looks up, before laughing a little. “It’s not well-made at all, but it’s cute! I… wasn’t sure what to think of it, but I didn’t want to throw it away.”

Nobunaga smirks, lifting her head. “With more practice, I could master any skill I wanted! Looking down on me would be your greatest mistake!”

“Oh, I never look down on you,” Okita rebuts. And the worst thing is, she’s right. Okita never looks down on Nobunaga, only counters her skills with her own, and it leaves Nobunaga with no bitter taste in her mouth. Perhaps she did before, but not now. Not like Yoshimoto, who killed her men. Not like Azai Nagamasa, who valued old family bonds over their alliance. Not like Akechi Mitsuhide, who betrayed her trust and succeeded in it.

(And Mitsuhide said to a poet before marching off for Kyoto: _The time is now, the fifth month when the rain falls._

The rain didn’t fall on the flames eating up Honnouji.)

Okita pours a cup of tea for Nobunaga, and Nobunaga realizes that this is the first time she’s actually poured one for her and not said ‘do it yourself’. She gives it a tentative sniff, but doesn’t check it for poison or even think on that possibility, before dunking it into her mouth. “Oh-- _careful,_ Nobu! You’re going to burn your tongue!” Okita chides her like an impatient mother, and Nobunaga swallows it all down in defiance. She can control fire, some hot tea won’t defeat her.

“The real question is, Nobu…” Okita waits till Nobunaga puts the teacup down. “I fell asleep the moment we reached Chaldea Gate, yet I found the doll in my arms. I kept it in one of my drawers. You must’ve been looking through my stuff when you found it, yes?”

“I have a perfect explanation for that!” Nobunaga answers confidently. “You were muttering my name in your sleep, so I suppose you must’ve wanted to sleep with it.”

Okita promptly chokes.

“I-- don’t put it that way!” Okita doesn’t have anything to toss at Nobunaga, so she simply huffs and opens up a container of dumplings. They’re obviously supposed to be heated up first, but Okita either wants to ignore the existence of a microwave or likes the taste of frozen meat. She stuffs two in her mouth at once, giving her an excuse not to say anything else.

Nobunaga looks rather pleased with herself. “Then, how should I put it?”

“Do not give anyone the impression we are more than rivals!”

“But we are more,” Nobunaga laughs. “We are friends!”

Okita has some sort of _oh, no no no_ face etched into her features. “Since when?!”

Ever since they’ve come under the same master, who greatly dislikes their very violent squabbles, their arguments have become less and less frequent. But sometimes, Okita misses it more than anything, because an amicable Nobunaga is so much more terrifying than a bloodthirsty one.

But-- this time, Nobunaga looks disappointed at that answer. “...You didn’t think the same?”

When Nobunaga sulks like that, she looks just like a child. Okita feels a pang in her heart, even though she knows _perfectly damn well_ Nobunaga is the farthest thing from a kid.

“I…” Okita doesn’t remember if they called each other friends in their previous Grail War. Memories from another summoning remain, yes, but they are misty like a dream. “Yes, I did think so. I just didn’t expect you to declare it so loudly.”

Nobunaga brightens up immediately, even taking one of Okita’s frozen dumplings. “I’m glad you think so! Since our weapons are no longer pointed towards each other, let us work together to conquer this world! Sure, you may have stopped me from claiming a nation in another world, but I will forgive you for it.”

“I didn’t agree to that!”

“Hold on, give me your dumplings,” Nobunaga orders, realizing how unnaturally crunchy they are. When Okita seems reluctant to do so, Nobunaga simply wrenches the box away, heating up the palm of her hands to cook the dumplings with her magic. “You’re supposed to use a microwave for this.”

Okita takes back the now moderately warm box, with actual soft dumplings. This is when she would normally complain about the complication of modern technology, but instead, she says-- “Why use that when I have you now?”

“I’m the Demon Archer, not a portable heater!”

While Okita laughs, she doesn’t consider how many other people Nobunaga might’ve called a friend before, simply concentrating on Nobunaga’s rare pouting expression. She doesn’t think on another conqueror who Nobunaga called a monkey, or the first Tokugawa Shogun who was the Oda’s first true ally after Okehazama. She doesn’t on how both of them benefitted from Nobunaga’s death.

(And Nobunaga doesn’t think on it either. She likes to say has no idea what happened at Honnouji, but--)

“You know, our master says we might find the true enemy in London soon,” Okita suddenly brings up. “They gave us a warning. We can die in battle in any other situation, and we’ll be brought back good as new in due time. But if we die right before we move onto another time period, instead of moving along with our master to the new time, when we’re summoned again, it’ll be like a separate summoning altogether, under a different master.”

Nobunaga shrugs. “So?”

“We might lose our memories of this summoning--”

“I remember everything from our last Grail War, crystal-clear!” Nobunaga huffs, then looks away. “...Well, no, I don’t. It feels like a dream, now. But I can remember key things, like you being annoying and getting in my way, so nothing of value was lost.”

Okita sighs. “You really never take a warning to heart!”

“What, are you scared of me losing my memories? Maybe our friendship now is more important to you than I thought!”

Okita promptly slaps Nobunaga on the forehead with the back of her hand.

“Right, right! I won’t lose to anyone, especially not at such a critical moment,” Nobunaga laughs. “I’ve lived with danger every day. I’ve slept with danger!”

“I don’t want to know anything about _that,_ ” Okita quickly says, and Nobunaga continues laughing. “Just-- look, you’re not allowed to save me anymore, alright? I can take care of myself. Don’t… put yourself in harm’s way for me.”

Nobunaga raises an eyebrow. “As if anyone could order the Demon King around! You should know your place, my dear retainer.”

Okita suddenly draws her sword. Nobunaga very quickly remembers how she’s not exactly as strong as Okita anymore. “Oh? Care you say that again?”

Well, whatever. As she’s already implied, Nobunaga’s attracted to danger. And Okita sounds very dangerous right now. “I said, you can kiss my ass because I do what I like, darling Souji-chan.”

Nobunaga spends the next three hours running with the ghost of a metal blade chasing the back of her neck.

\---

There was a legend that Nobunaga’s principal wife was actually an assassin sent to kill him by her own family.

As with truths that are too absurd to be believed, this piece of history was forgotten in the pursuit of the ‘real life’ of Nobunaga, by Christian missionaries and close retainers who thought they knew him. But Nobunaga is remarkably open yet incredibly distant, keeping everything to herself, up till the point where even in the future, people are surprised to realize she’s actually a girl.

No one truly knew, or knows, Nobunaga. Not even her principal wife, a woman titled Nouhime and named Kichou, from the Mino province.

“I know why you were married to me,” Nobunaga told her with a laugh, and somehow, there was no order issued to kill Kichou. She never acted on her family’s orders, and in time, Nobunaga invaded the land of Mino-- and all of them were slaughtered, blood running down the slopes of Mount Inaba.

Kichou was barren, which is obvious in hindsight, seeing that Nobunaga is a woman as well. Nobunaga’s advisors tried to have her removed-- after the death of her family, she’s lost all political worth, not to mention the fact that her alleged assassination mission was beginning to spread. But Nobunaga never lifted a finger, never asked her to leave.

And Kichou, perhaps taken in by Nobunaga’s unexpected kindness, or too afraid to act-- never did anything to avenge her family. People were puzzled with Nobunaga’s actions as well. Was the warlord secretly fond of her, above all others? What charm did Kichou have? Was it her beauty, forgotten in the annals of time, or her resilience, after the death of her bloodline?

Nobody dared to question Nobunaga, but if they did, she would’ve gladly told them.

Right after Nobunaga declared that she knew why Kichou was there-- when she was still surprised, and still determined, the assassination she pledged to fulfill all too fresh in her mind-- she had replied, “I know we are destined to kill each other.”

In Nobunaga’s time, people did not marry for love.

But that was the one and only time Nobunaga had ever fallen in love, and she has met no one else quite like Kichou. Not for a decade, not for five centuries--

\--Except for now.

(They did not kill each other. Nobunaga died in the fires of Honnouji, and Kichou faded from history.)

\---

Nobunaga catches Okita reading a romance novel.

Okita doesn’t know anything about romance, and their master had the _bright idea_ of getting romantic novels from her time to educate her on the topic. Okita’s poorly planned half-confession (she will always insist it’s platonic, no matter what) on Valentine’s has prompted their master to save her from embarrassing herself any further, even if it ended relatively nicely.

Okita isn’t very engrossed in it, but still interested enough. Which is why she only hears Nobunaga when she’s already opened the door to her room.

“Wait!” Okita quickly tosses the book, as if trying to get it away from her, as far as possible-- but in her reflexive action, she tosses it right at Nobunaga’s face. It’s a bullseye. “Oh, no!”

“Ow,” Nobunaga deadpans. The book falls into her hands. “How cruel, I was only going to ask if I could borrow your teapot. Is this how you treat a friend?”

Okita isn’t even paying attention to Nobunaga’s words, eyes trained on the book in her hands. She lunges at Nobunaga, trying to snatch it away, but Nobunaga is faster, quickly sidestepping and leaving Okita clawing at thin air.

“Now, what’s this?” Nobunaga looks at the book cover, and Okita holds back a scream. “ _Five Women Who Loved Love…_ wow, that’s a scandalous title! I didn’t know you liked these kind of books! I guess you do kinda have a sex drive.”

Okita’s screams becomes very, very audible. She tears the book away from Nobunaga, and then slaps her in the face with it. “No! It’s not like that! ...I skip those parts!”

“I see!” Nobunaga laughs, even with the new bruises on her cheek.

“B-besides,” Okita chokes, trying to regain her composure. “It’s not like I’ll ever let myself get involved romantically…”

Nobunaga raises an eyebrow. “Why not? It’s not like you’re married or anything. Even if you were, you’re practically dead now. Any vows made in life are now invalid!”

“Then what are the point of vows?!” Okita hits Nobunaga on the head again. “And… all these stories are exciting, but to think, it would all end in tragedy…”

“Hm? Oh, it’s those kind of stories,” Nobunaga mutters. “You know, real life doesn’t have to follow storybooks.”

Okita looks down. “But these stories must come from somewhere.”

Nobunaga clicks her tongue. “If I had ruled the country, I would’ve abolished the adultery rule! Problems of succession are so complicated, we might as well do away with the concept of bloodlines! Everything will be based off merit--”

Okita smacks Nobunaga again, but this time, it’s lighter than before. “There’s no way a society like that could ever function! It would destroy itself!”

“Well, even our own destroyed itself several times,” Nobunaga retorts. “Don’t try to say it didn’t.”

Okita breathes. “It only collapsed because of the Black Ships that forced our country out of seclusion!”

“And I don’t understand why Tokugawa Iemitsu would ever lock the country up in the first place,” Nobunaga bats back. Somehow, without realizing it, they’ve begun raising their voices like an argument. “I got my firearms from Portuguese traders. It is through the help of those from the outside world that we can truly advance!”

“You were a monster who gunned down volleys of men! No one should ever follow your example!”

“I pushed the front line and triggered the events that stopped over a century of ceaseless war! Is that not worth it?”

Okita shakes her head, fingers crumbling the book pages. “No, it’s never worth it!”

“Only a fool who lived in peacetime would ever think that.” And, with that said, there seems to be something in Nobunaga’s eyes that finally feel sad.

Okita would normally pull out her sword at that offense, but this time, she does nothing. Nobunaga slams the door behind her. It shakes the bedstand, and the doll falls onto the floor.

\---

(But Nobunaga knows where Kichou went. They sat together in the fires of Honnouji, because Kichou has no place to return to, not after Nobunaga had destroyed it.

“Ranmaru is protecting this place,” Nobunaga says. “You can try to run.” None of them do. It is expected.

Nobunaga pulls out a short sword, and her eyes stray to the crackling fire. “So it goes…”

And those were reported to be Nobunaga’s last words, carrying the same message, _it cannot be helped._ But there are more, something else uttered to the wife next to her, words only she could hear, and they carried every regret Nobunaga had ever failed to mention. Some may be surprised to know Nobunaga has regrets. Some may not.

“Maybe it would’ve been better,” Nobunaga says, “if we had never met.”

 _But these stories must come from somewhere._ Of course-- they come from the tragedies of real life.)

\---

Okita knocks on Nobunaga’s door. For once, Nobunaga just sits cross-legged in bed, ignoring her.

“Nobu? Are in there? No, I know you’re in there. You never lock your door.” Okita continues knocking. “I’m sorry. I must’ve said too much. I know we have… very different views on things, but you’re right. The only time I’ve ever been to a real battlefield was at Toba-Fushimi.”

Nobunaga remains quiet. “And when I got there… there were foreign soldiers, with their pasty faces and muskets. Those from Choshu and Satsuma, too. They were armed to the teeth.”

Finally, she gets off the bed, putting one hand on the doorknob. “The smell of gunpowder was everywhere,” Okita trails off. “So, I…”

“Stop,” Nobunaga commands, opening the door. “You don’t have to continue if it’s going to make you cry.”

Okita doesn’t retort, only giving a slight nod. Nobunaga ignores the pang of regret in her chest. “I don’t need to hear your justification. Something like that would make your apology sound insincere. Of course, it would be preferable if you groveled on your feet, but…”

“Don’t push your luck,” Okita huffs.

Nobunaga looks away. “...And I’m sorry.”

Okita looks like she’d just seen a ghost. “You--?! You actually apologized to me? For…?”

“I was irritated when you said you’d never let yourself get romantically involved. So I tried picking at what you said to make you change your mind. Of course, I shouldn’t have ever expected for the great, obstinate Okita Souji to ever go back on her beliefs, right?”

(Because Okita gave up her life to protect Japan’s old views of what the country should be. If Nobunaga told her that her thinking was outdated and obsolete-- it would mean her life was forfeit for nothing.

She could never tell Okita that, even if Nobunaga thinks it’s true. And it’s strange, because Nobunaga normally never hesitates before telling people the worthlessness of their deed in the grand scheme of the world.

Of course, there is one exception. She never once even thought to tell Kichou her life was useless after her family was gone.)

Okita takes a deep breath, then smiles. “You are actually quite cute.”

“T-that’s my line!” Now it’s Nobunaga’s turn to stutter, as if she’s at a loss for words. Okita laughs a little, and Nobunaga sidesteps, as if allowing her into the room. It’s not like they can stand at the doorway forever.

“Though, I’m a bit confused,” Okita hums. “Why would you be irritated when I said I wouldn’t get myself romantically involved…?”

Oh.

Nobunaga’s eyes dart across the room, as if looking for a good answer, but she knows she won’t ever find one that wouldn’t end horrifically. “Ah,” Nobunaga says, as if she has a perfect response on the top of her tongue. How can she say _because I liken you to my dead wife_ without sounding creepy?

“Because… you were cutting yourself loose from a big opportunity, and I couldn’t let that happen to a friend!”

“That’s a lie. It’s not even a confident lie,” Okita replies. “You know, Nobu… I admit, I can be stupid. But I know when you’re lying. So tell me, why did you actually feel so angry…?”

And the Demon King, the sheer concept of shamelessness itself, is too stricken with hesitation to reply with words.

So she just kisses Okita instead.

It probably played out better in her head, if she’d given a moment to think about it at all. But instead, Nobunaga can only grace the skin of Okita’s lips before Okita tosses her to the ground, hands over her neck.

“What are you doing?” Nobunaga just stares dumbly at Okita for a moment, before realizing she looks afraid. As far as Nobunaga knows, it’s downright impossible to make Okita afraid. “You--”

“Oh, right,” Nobunaga begins. “To get close enough to kiss you, I needed to get close enough to _kill_ you too. Is that what you thought I would do?”

Okita’s face flashes between anger and confusion. “You… when you apologized, I thought-- but why?”

“Are you really going to ask me why I want to kiss you? I thought those novels might’ve helped you a bit.” Nobunaga continues while Okita’s fingers begin shivering. “You have a will different than anyone else’s! There is an affinity I cannot deny! You are more helpful than any retainer, and more dangerous than any foe. You refuse to cave into your illness. You--”

Okita quickly gets off Nobunaga, kicking her in the face while she does so, and Nobunaga gets abruptly cut off. She continues staring for a moment, expression mixed between shock and abject horror, before running out. Nobunaga moves to try chasing her, but she stops in front of the doorway. “Don’t follow me! Something like that between us-- that could never work!”

Nobunaga, who was expecting that answer, just lets her go.

She returns to her room, and pretends she hasn’t just done something incredibly stupid.

\---

But, you see-- Okita truly thought Nobunaga was moving in to kill her.

There is no emotion quite like feeling you’re about to die. Okita did not finish her story to Nobunaga-- _The smell of gunpowder was everywhere. It was too much, and I couldn’t continue fighting. It was all over the ground, on my face, in my lungs… Hijikata told me to go back home. And I never fought again._

She died at the height of the rainy season, watching the storm brew outside the hospital window.

When she first saw Nobunaga, she knew that they were destined to kill each other. They were too different, even if they were from the same country, and spoke the same language. Okita fought to conserve her way of life, destroy foreign influences and protect the Shogunate which has been in power for centuries before she was born. But Nobunaga, she fought to destroy everyone’s perception of what life was, welcoming foreign missionaries and introducing new weapons onto the battlefield. She mowed down the Takeda’s great cavalry at Mikatagahara, reducing a generation’s worth of talent to corpses in minutes.

Even if Okita did love her-- and that is an _if--_ it would never last. She could never let it begin in the first place. Nobunaga is the very concept of the things Okita spent her life fighting against: the powerful, fearsome concept of _change._

 _Even if_ Okita did love her, when Nobunaga’s lips pressed onto hers, all she could smell was gunpowder. And she gagged.

(--There is one thing neither of them can deny, however. Nothing can make a fire blaze in their chest more than each other, and not just in a duel. Whenever their eyes meet, even in a normal setting, it’s like a declaration is made. Of love or of war, there isn’t much difference anymore. Such intense feelings cannot possibly be simply made of hate.

Yes, Okita is scared of the smell of gunpowder. But that’s not why she felt so afraid upon realizing Nobunaga had kissed her.

She was afraid of the fact that she didn’t want to push her away. That she was so close, _so close_ to accepting Nobunaga and throwing _giri_ into the wind for the lustful embrace of _ninjo_. That would mean giving up who she is, and everything the legend of Okita Souji ever lived for. She can’t allow that. She won’t.)

Okita slams the door behind her this time, and she sits cross-legged on her bed, not quite sure what to do. After a minute or maybe an hour, her eyes fall onto the doll messily tossed onto her pillow. She grabs it, by the hat that she’s sliced off before, and she throws it onto the floor.

In one swift movement, as if she was pinning the real Nobunaga down, her left hand flies to press onto the doll’s neck to keep it on the ground. Her right rushes for her sword, sliding it out in record time, and she point it towards the doll, cutting through the air with an audible _whoosh._

The doll makes a squeak as Okita squishes it.

Suddenly, her hand shivers, and she draws back her sword. She stares at the doll, then picks it back up, before putting it onto the bed and punching it.

“Stupid Nobu!” She punches it again. “Why does she even like me? _Why me?_ Stupid, stupid!”

She stops punching it once she realizes the yarn is frayed off the edges. She stares for a moment, before gingerly picking it up by one of its mismatched arms, and hugs it to her chest before falling asleep.

\---

(Nobunaga is everything Okita fought against. To love her would mean forgoing _giri_ for _ninjo._

And the only way to embrace the floating world, where love is the only thing that matters, is through _shinjū._

Okita will die before she allows herself to fall in love. But Heroic Spirits are already dead people, aren’t they?)

\---

That night, Nobunaga doesn’t have a teapot. She makes coffee instead. It tastes bitter but exotic, mixed with milk and heated. When she takes a packet of sugar, she recalls how precious it used to be, to the point where she gave a Portuguese missionary the rights to spread Christianity the moment he presented a glass flask full of candy to her. She promptly shrugs and rips open five packets at once to pour it all into her cup.

She realizes that she can’t sleep now.

With the caffeine and sugar running through her system, she wants to let it all out on something, _someone,_ but there’s no one she can target. No one except the one person she doesn’t want to, or doesn’t bear to, seek out right now. She wishes the room had a window.

Outside, in the snowy mountain peaks, the rain turns into hail, a loud pitter-patter on the rooftops of Chaldea Gate.

“How annoying. You’re such a pest,” Nobunaga mutters under her breath, stirring her coffee. Okita’s name lingers at the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t say it. “Without you, I would’ve taken over this place with no hesitation whatsoever. I would’ve won the last Grail War without a hitch! Without you…”

(But this is the price of becoming the Demon King, isn’t it? Giving up your humanity, your reputation, your _everything_ to become a monster. Nobunaga didn’t regret it. She still doesn’t. Just that-- she knows exactly what she’s lost, and it’s a lot. Much more than what most can ever handle losing.

She regrets Okehazama, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. She doesn’t understand completely why Honnouji occurred, but that doesn’t change the fact that she died.

Setting Mt. Hiei on fire was her descent into becoming a Demon King, so perhaps it’s fitting, that she’d die in a way so similar to the villagers and warrior monks she burnt to nothing.

Even if her Reality Marble consists of engulfing the world in flames, she doesn’t mind standing outside in the rain, feeling it drench her skin.)

She changes out of her military outfit, and doesn’t change into anything else, simply pulls a big blanket over her body as she continues staring at her drink. And then, as the memory of the rain at Okehazama slowly streams past her mind, her eyes go wide.

“I never wrote a death poem,” she suddenly says. Nobunaga has never been the kind for old-fashioned things, but it’s almost a crime, to have her right to such a thing denied to her with the sneak attack at Honnouji. And without warning, her entire body comes to life as she scrambles for a pen, paper, _something_ to write on--

\---

“Good morning, Nobu.”

When Okita’s voice floats over her head, Nobunaga realizes she’d forgotten to lock the door.

Immediately scrambling to her feet, she falls off the chair, and papers go flying everywhere. Okita sighs and hauls her up the shoulders, including the blanket, before tossing her onto her bed as she eyes the papers. “Did you stay up the entire night?”

“It is a trivial exertion on the Demon King’s strength, to pull an all-nighter.” Nobunaga says this with huge eyebags and a yawn rising up her throat.

“...Just lie down. You’re going to die if our master calls you out on the battlefield like that.” In comparison to last night, Okita seems remarkably calm now, bending her knees to pick up the papers. “I wanted to talk about what happened.”

Nobunaga forces her eyes open. With her military outfit off and covered in nothing but a blanket, this is the _worst_ possible position for the both of them right after what happened the previous day, but Okita opts to ignore it. “I’m upset,” Okita declares in a purposefully collected voice, shuffling the papers. “How dare you kiss me without my permission.”

“...Right,” Nobunaga manages to say. “Right, right. Won’t happen aga--”

“You’d better mean it. You have to ask before you do something like that,” Okita chides, never quite looking at Nobunaga. Her eyes flit down to the papers. “If you do that again, I will cut you down on the spot. This is your first and last warning.”

Nobunaga remains quiet for a moment. “Do I have permission to kiss you now?”

“No,” Okita replies with a smile.

But she still doesn’t leave the room, only tidies up the mess Nobunaga’s left behind, even pouring out the cold coffee for her. Nobunaga closes her eyes, somehow knowing exactly what this kind of gesture means.

What Okita has said is straightforward enough-- _I’m rejecting your advances._ But at the same time, there is another meaning hidden under her actions, how she leans over Nobunaga in bed and pulls the covers up to hide her modesty-- the fact that she’d even bother to stick _around_ after what Nobunaga has done speaks volumes.

_No, I will not say I love you. But I will let you love me, whatever the reason._

It’s a little much to infer at once, but Nobunaga doesn’t seem to be wrong. “It’s snowing. Even the portable heater Demon King shouldn’t sleep in the nude, you know.”

“I’m not a portable heater,” Nobunaga groans. “Besides, my clothes are horrible to sleep in.”

“Do you have nothing else to change out into? Or is your entire wardrobe made of flashy attire?” Okita raises her eyebrows, and Nobunaga doesn’t answer. “I’ll take that as a yes. You know, I’m not even surprised. Hold on, wait for me.”

She’s out of the room and back in five minutes, with a fluffy cloak in the _dandara_ pattern in her hands. “Wear this. It’s comfy.”

“Wait--” Nobunaga narrows her eyes. “Isn’t that your Shinsengumi coat?”

“I have spares. Don’t ever wear it outside your room, though. You have no right in appear in front of anyone’s eyes except mine wearing this,” Okita warns.

Nobunaga, sleep-deprived as she is, lacks much of the basic ability to speak well. So instead, when she takes the coat, she only looks up at Okita and asks: “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I am not so cruel as to mistreat someone who loves me,” Okita replies.

“How do you even know I love you? I could’ve simply kissed you on whim.”

“Nobu, I know nothing about love, but I know far too much about you,” she begins. “From the way you fight, to what you like to eat, and most importantly, how you treat other people. There is no one else you treat quite like me. It only proves we’ve been together for way too long. I know when you are lying, and when you are telling the truth. And most importantly, you wouldn’t risk your life for just anyone. You put your self-interest above so much else. There must be a special reason, why you would’ve saved me back then. I thought it made sense, but it really doesn’t. You wouldn’t save your allies at the cost of your own life so selflessly.”

“The only reason I saved you,” Nobunaga explains, “is because only I’m allowed to kill you.”

Okita pauses. “Will you kill me without reason?”

“Maybe.”

“Will you kill me while we are still allies?”

“Can’t say.”

“Will you kill me if I tell you not to?”

Nobunaga doesn’t reply.

“There’s another reason why I know you love me,” Okita continues. “When I entered the room, you were muttering my name in your sleep. You were smiling and giggling, like a child, you know! I almost wanted to pinch your cheeks!... I don’t think that was a dream about killing me.”

Nobunaga turns her head to Okita, and their eyes meet. “Then, following that logic of a dream, you’re in love with me too.”

“Tha… that’s besides the point.” Okita turns away, not letting Nobunaga see her expression. “None of this changes things, however. From the moment I met you, I knew that we were destined to fight till the end.”

“We can fight destiny instead,” Nobunaga laughs, and Okita laughs too, as if it’s a joke.

“...Eventually, we’ll return to being enemies,” Okita suddenly declares. “Nothing last forever. I know that too well. So-- we are both servants to this master, but in another life, in another time, we will destroy each other again.”

Nobunaga lifts her head up. “What makes you so sure?”

“We are too different. If we are not on the same side, even if we are close, I will not hesitate to cut you down. I will remain loyal to my own si--”

“That’s not the right answer,” Nobunaga hums. “It’s because you think the Demon King and Sakura Saber is a love story that can never end well, right?”

“And am I wrong?”

Nobunaga looks away. “I know you pretty well too. If you didn’t like me in any romantic way at all, you wouldn’t even be having this conversation with me. You’d straight-up reject me and comfort me while I’m grumpy from disappointment, instead of talking in circles like this. Where did the great and straightforward Okita Souji go?”

Okita slowly draws her sword out her sheath, and casually points it at Nobunaga. “I am not allowed to love you.”

“Bullshit,” Nobunaga swears. She doesn’t even flinch at the sword. “I’m curious, though. I didn’t expect you to really like me back. Why’s that?”

“You’re right,” Okita mutters, and her tone has been so serious all this time that it’s almost tiring to keep forcing it. “I am lonely.”

Rather taken aback by how she doesn’t even bother denying it, Nobunaga proceeds to smirk from ear to ear. “Then, you can share this bed with me!”

“Go to sleep, Nobu, before I change my mind and take that coat back.”

And she sits on Nobunaga’s bed, not leaving the room. It’s a dangerous thing, to fall asleep in the same room as your enemy-- or your lover. Since Nobunaga’s lovers have both sworn to kill her, and all.

But Nobunaga is used to the thrill of danger. And Okita, who was a talented swordswoman in life but never had time for things like love-- if she is lonely, then it’s fitting that she would spend her time with the Demon King who sees beyond her powers and her mannerisms.

It’s very common for people to fall in love with the very thing they are forbidden from having, because the human soul naturally fights against artificial, societal restrictions. That is why there are so many tragic love stories, and why Nobunaga decides not to press Okita to say _I do love you_ right from her mouth.

Nobunaga isn’t saying it either, after all. Though, mostly only from the knowledge that she’d probably scare Okita to death if she declared it out loud. Even saying she considered Okita a _friend_ was frightful enough.

Nobunaga falls asleep to Okita’s sword still hovering above her face. Okita finally sheathes it, stares at Nobunaga, and taps the tip of her nose before smiling.

“Cute little Nobu,” she mutters, barely stopping herself from pinching her cheeks. “What a world we live in, for a girl like you to carry such a monstrous reputation. You are the only person who bothers to understand me so well… why you? Why does it have to be you? Why do you have to be the one who praises me for my soul, and not my swordsmanship? You’re used to having more than one wife… there’s no guarantee you’d love me for as long as anything you’d promise. No guarantee at all.”

And that is all she says before finally tearing her eyes away, leaving the room. Her upbringing taught Okita that Nobunaga was a demon beyond redemption-- but her upbringing did not tell her about Nobunaga’s excellent skills at diplomacy, even at pacifying Berserkers. It did not tell her about Nobunaga’s sweet tooth and penchant for gorging on candy. It did not tell her Nobunaga washed her hair in the oil of red camellias, keeping it meticulously smooth, and it did not tell her how good Nobunaga was at making tea.

If they were wrong about that, what else were they wrong about?

\---

(This is a story where _ninjo_ wins.)

It’s raining, when they walk down the streets of London.

Of course, with the ominous fog hanging over them, this is the least of their worries. The looming tower of Big Ben is barely visible in the distance, as they advance towards their final goal. When their next opponent steps in, or rather, rides in with a horse, Nobunaga smirks. “She looks a little like you, doesn’t she?” She nudges towards Okita. “Except with way bigger--”

“T-this is not the time to be staring at such places! Have some dignity!” Okita sputters out her reply, and Nobunaga laughs. Archers might not be the best against Lancers, but Okita makes short work of this alternate version of King Arthur, throwing her onto the ground.

It’s the fight against Solomon that really takes the cake.

They’re joined by Tamamo and Kintoki up in front, but they go down in a flash. The Grand Caster summons-- some huge mass of red, throbbing beasts with eyes all over blackened veins, and no matter how much Nobunaga shoots. Even Scathach seems to elicit nothing but laughter from the demon.

“Well,” Nobunaga breathes, seething through her teeth while her lips remained curled upwards. “I think we’re in trouble!”

Okita doesn’t even have time to whack her over the head. The rain has stopped, or maybe just disappeared the moment the Grand Caster pulled out his trump card.

Solomon laughs again, and no matter how they try to dodge, there’s no way they can rush out of harm’s way all the time. The demon blasts out a gust of boiling hot air, enough to make Nobunaga double back, and she can feel the burns on her skin.

(“You can try to run.” None of them do. It is expected.)

“He can’t last forever!” Still, with the wounds all over her skin, Nobuanga doesn’t stop yelling commands. No one listens to her, and yet, she continues. “More! Okita, Scathach, use my Noble Phantasm as an opening!”

Nobunaga musters up all her energy at once, leaping into the air as she conjures up her Noble Phantasm. She doesn’t have her strongest one-- oh, how _delightfully_ effective her Reality Marble would be in this situation-- but summoning three thousand muskets isn’t too bad, either, and they rattle off all at once, pistons clicking like the pitter-patter of rain against the ground.

Scathach goes in for the kill, trying to stun the opponent-- but it’s too large, there’s too much to aim at, and there’s no such thing like a heart or any weak point she can aim at. Not like a human opponent. Even Okita, with her quick slashes, faster than lightning, striking at multiple places at once-- it doesn’t even seem to leave a scratch.

Nobunaga knows what hopelessness feels like, but even this is a little too cruel.

“Master!” Okita yells for something, maybe another chance at a Noble Phantasm-- but their master has used up all three command seals. “Even with all our Noble Phantasms at once… it still…”

“No matter!” Nobunaga forces herself to continue firing, continue carrying the damn fight, even though she’s been on the verge of death for far too long. Even their master can’t heal all her wounds. They either finish the fight now, or they’ll-- “This is our last battle in this Grand Order! We will win!”

And Nobunaga isn’t wrong.

Even if Solomon himself seems relatively untouched, the writhing demon in front of him grows ever more frantic, and it can’t be long now. It can’t be long now. It can’t--

It roars, and lights begin dropping out of the sky.

This is where the story ends, or it should, if Nobunaga’s life was anything remotely normal. But her legacy is littered with lucky breaks, all summing up into one big burst of fire. There is fire this time, too, but it fails to consume her.

(“Maybe it would’ve been better,” Nobunaga says, “if we had never met.”)

It takes far too long for Nobunaga to realize Okita’s used her own body to shield her.

There isn’t any time to react, not even to scream, because the sky seems to break apart again, light shining into the corners of Nobunaga’s vision-- but it doesn’t hurt her, none of the attacks hurt her, because Okita is clinging onto her sides for dear life, and she’s so small in this form in comparison to Okita, in this state.

She’s used to being the person that everyone dies for, but Okita is not ‘everyone’.

“You,” Nobunaga breathes, and their master commands Scathach to move-- she can finish the enemy off on her own, Nobunaga can’t be forced to care anymore. “You-- why?”

Okita doesn’t have the luxury to reply immediately, simply collapsing onto Nobunaga, spitting blood onto her face. Nobunaga doesn’t flinch, only flips Okita over, onto her back, looking her up and down-- those attacks should’ve killed them both. Scathach managed to dodge them all by the skin of her teeth, but Okita didn’t. She could have, but she didn’t.

“You’re not allowed to save me anymore,” Okita manages to say, and it feels like the air is eating away at her skin. Or is she just evaporating? Turning from her physical form into nothing? Their master is trying to maintain her human body, _desperately_ trying to stop Okita from leaving, because Okita is the strongest Saber, and without her, the battle would be--

But Nobunaga has no reason to care for the battle when she’s practically already lost, and there’s no way to make up for this decisive defeat. “This isn’t any better-- why? Your death is on your _own_ head! --No, you’ll forget everything. I command you not to go like this! Not even if you want to! _Okita! Only I am the one destined to kill you!”_

The demon cries out suddenly, and with a magnificent shudder of the earth, it dissipates into nothing under Scathach’s spear.

Okita’s body shakes, and her feet are gone already, spiritual energy quickly disappearing, just like the demon Solomon summoned. But there’s still enough left in her to say one thing: she can’t explain, can’t say _sorry_ or give any closure for this. But there’s never any closure on stories like these, nothing to say after the last-minute twist at the end, nothing but the declaration that Okita Souji has vanished into the clouds.

“Do not be sad,” she says, and Nobunaga grabs her shoulder, as if it could make Okita stay. “It cannot be helped.”

Those come from Okita’s mouth, but Nobunaga knows they aren’t her words.

Realization hits her before Okita’s death does, and even if death is only temporary to servants, there are things lost with each one. Nobunaga breathes, just once, and Okita’s shoulder disappears under her fingers.

The rest of the story is filled with blank pages. There is no more dialogue. The only way to embrace the floating world is through death, and this is what happens when _ninjo_ wins.

Okita feels the rain wet her cheeks, but it’s only the pitter-patter of the Demon Archer’s tears.

\---

(And in the image of a floating world, scenes of geishas and flashy samurai painted onto woodblocks-- it is not representative of Okita. _Ukiyo_ is not an afterlife. To die a lover’s death is to embrace the floating world, but Okita would never live in it. Because the floating world is the material realm, the world of human pleasure and emotion. Servants, who are long dead but also just barely alive, are reborn over and over onto the sorrowful plane of existence. A cycle of death.

If she had lived in the floating world for a second, just one, then in her death, Okita would have joined it, the idea of love triumphing over even the shackles of life. But she refused, till the end, because to embrace the floating world would mean her death would be meaningless. In this life, and her original one, as the most excellent captain of the Shinsengumi.

Loving Nobunaga would make Okita meaningless.

And so, Okita cannot live in a world where she loves Nobunaga. But she can die in one. Then, if she comes back, she will die again. And again, and again, because there is no other option for a samurai who falls in love with someone they shouldn’t.)

\---

When Nobunaga gets back to Chaldea Gate, she doesn’t waste her breath or her time listening to her master’s apologies. She walks straight to her room, wrenches off her bloodied hat, and begins tossing papers onto her desk.

Where did Okita put it? Where did she sort that damn piece of paper, when she walked into her room, sat on her bed, gave Nobunaga her clothes--?

Nobunaga spots it, a piece of paper with a coffee stain on the corner. She brings it up to her face. There are more words on it than she remembers.

What she _does_ remember, is her death poem. There is nothing more that is supposed to be there.

Nobunaga takes the opportunity to lock the door behind her. She grabs the Shinsengumi coat off the bed, and squeezes the hem in her hands. She turns her eyes down, and she begins reading.

_"To fall in love_  
_is to perish with grace._  
_Had I not known_  
_that I wanted to die alone_  
_I would’ve invited you  
_to perish along with me._ _

_Do not be sad.  
It cannot be helped.”_

And written, under Nobunaga’s death poem, that never truly served its purpose-- Okita’s handwriting is there, crisp and clear.

_”If left unmoving,  
darkness will consume the space  
between the floating flower and still water.”_

_Nobunaga, I wrote this poem a long time ago. You should know what it means._

__

Nobunaga reads the rest of the letter without a word. Her eyes don’t leave the page for almost an hour. And then, just as suddenly as she began looking for it, she folds it neatly and places the paper back on the desk.

\---

Before they head off to the next time period, Okita is summoned again. Since she was brought forth by their master once before, there isn’t any need for rolling of dice or catalyst. She is just as strong as the previous one, or so Nobunaga has heard, because she hasn’t talked to her yet.

She goes around doing her business, thinking of ways to take over Chaldea, so on so forth-- and when Okita calls out her name _Oda Nobunaga_ with excitement behind her back, there’s a shiver down the Demon Archer’s spine.

“It’s you!” Okita yells again, trying to catch Nobunaga’s attention. It’s so odd, to hear her this peppy, like someone meeting an old schoolfriend. “Ah, master said we were close before. And I should find you, because you’d miss me. I do remember you, now that I finally see you up close. You _are_ Oda Nobunaga, right? Hm… I thought the Demon King would be scarier, and I was apprehensive when master said we were friends. I was surprised when I heard you were a little girl, but you are quite cute.”

“That’s because you haven’t seen my eyes yet,” Nobunaga warns with a smirk, and she turns around. She spares one second to look at Okita, then two, then ten, and she’s walking closer with each heartbeat. “Hm? Do I look familiar? Ring off alarm bells, maybe?”

Okita’s eyes widen, as if she’s just remembered something important. “...An oath… my eyes met with yours, and I made an oath. I know… we are destined for something, but what?”

“Hm, you can go figure that out,” Nobunaga answers. She begins to walk away.

“--Huh? No, wait! Tell me! I want to remember!”

Nobunaga shakes her head. “If you want to, you can speak to me all you want. Go ahead! But I won’t seek you out myself.”

“...But…” Okita tilts her head. “I thought master said you would miss me.”

Nobunaga pauses for a moment. She already has an answer to that, but it never gets easy to say.

“Maybe it would’ve been better,” Nobunaga says, “if we had never met.”

And with that, Nobunaga leaves, leading Okita as far away from the floating world as possible.

(The only way to break out of the cycle. If Okita falls in love with someone who doesn’t need her to go against her _giri,_ then everything would be solved.

Nobunaga was not willing to give up her control over Japan in her human life. But now, with something much more precious on the line, she’s with giving up her individualistic pursuit for love.

Because Nobunaga is a human, with enough regrets to pile up a mountain. But she’ll burn it all down now, because it’d be better, this time, if they just never meet. That choice is in Nobunaga’s hands, and no one will ever know, about the most human action the Demon King of Sixth Heaven has ever taken, all in the name of love.)

\---

That night, she doesn’t sleep. She sits in her room, a tiny yarn doll on her desk. She’d never noticed how Okita stitched the hat back on.

Nobunaga, the Demon King, drapes herself in nothing but the warm Shinsengumi coat as she carefully pulls a paper out of her desk. She keeps it far, far away from her sugary coffee, and she puts her feet on the table before she lies back.

And then-- with eyes that finally feel sad-- she reads it all over again.

\---

_Nobunaga, I wrote this poem a long time ago. You should know what it means._

_When I was dying, I reflected a lot on my life. Did you have that chance? I don’t mean that in a patronizing way, of course. I notice you’ve written a death poem, and it sounds an awful lot like a last will. As if I was supposed to read it after you died, or something._

_I don’t like that at all, Nobu. Don’t write things like that! You’re the one who says you can fight against destiny, and besides, even though we’ve practically sworn to kill each other, we don’t have to. We’ve never had to. It’s all our own decision now, without our masters. Maybe you wanted to prepare for the worst situation possible, or something, but I still don’t like it. It reads too much like a bad omen._

_It might be surprising, to hear Okita Souji believes in bad omens. But I do! The moment you die isn’t when you pass away-- it’s when you give up on living. I doubt you’re the kind of person who would give up, but you’ve been surprising me a lot, lately. I don’t want to take any chances._

_Even if I died, in the end, the legend of Okita Souji never did. And neither did yours. We are born from our legends, Nobu, and yours aren’t exactly the best. That’s why I felt like I had to kill you, even besides the fact that we were enemies. You were the bad guy, and I was the good guy. I had to kill you._

_But even as I lay dying, Nobu, I knew that wasn’t true. You were never ‘threatening to change my views’, not really. If you have a long time to die, you start doubting your life was ever worth anything in the first place. People can say that I was the best captain of the Shinsengumi, and my bravery would last for generations, but none of those people know what else I could’ve done. Everything else I could’ve accomplished. It is the greatest men who have the greatest regrets, but I am not that spectacular, yet I hold regrets heavy enough to lay on the back of my mind, even now. Do you?_

_I don’t dare to say any of these words with my own tongue, I’m afraid. It’s hard enough to write it out as it is. I am still afraid of pouring my heart out to you, so I am using this roundabout way. That is mostly your fault, of course, because you’ve given me no guarantee you wouldn’t break my heart if I gave it to you._

_I might not be well-versed in romance, but in life, I am not completely naive. I cannot speak for what you think. I cannot be sure of what you will say. I know you well, but I am not you. I can only speak for myself._

_And that is: Do you know how much it did mean to me, when you said you were my friend? Of course, I wanted to deny it at first. You are everything I was supposed to fight against, Nobunaga. Even if we eat together, fight together, laugh together-- to call you my friend would be a defeat. I would be conceding that you weren’t a complete monster, and the views of the Shinsengumi, doggedly defending the Shogunate, were perhaps a little too rigid._

_But you aren’t a complete monster. It was easy to figure that out. And from then on, everything either fell into place, or fell into pieces._

_I love you, Nobunaga. There, I wrote it. But because I do, it’s betrayal. I’m betraying myself, my obligations, my beliefs, my comrades, all in one fell swoop. I’m not fine with this, Nobunaga. But at the same time, I can’t do anything about it._

_I refuse to give up on life. I will not die, even if someone kills me. I will not give up on living. But now, if I die fighting as Okita Souji, it means nothing anymore. Do you understand that? It might be hard to. Maybe you’d still think I was stupid for holding onto the past like I am. If I die fighting for our master, even then, it would mean nothing. My death would mean nothing, because to our master, we can always be brought back. Our master is not a bad person, but that’s how it is._

_The only death I will accept now, Nobunaga, is if I die protecting you. And that is probably how you ended up reading this letter. Unless, of course, you decided to redo your death poem. I must admit, there is a part of me that hopes you will find this before anything really does happen to me. It’s a bit hypocritical, for me to say I believe in bad omens, then write something like this._

_“If left unmoving, darkness will consume the space between the floating flower and still water.” It means that unless I act, unless I use my will to create something meaningful out of my life, I’ll be separated from my true desires. Back then, it was to fight for the Shinsengumi. Now, I don’t even know what they are._

_You’re the cause for all this confusion. It’s your fault._

_When you became my rival, my life took on new meaning. I didn’t know it’d go this far. Sometimes, I lament the fact that we met, because I’d still be so blissful in my own world, if you hadn’t come along._

_But there’s nothing I can do about it now. I love you. I say that you love me too, but in reality, I’m not sure. All I want now, at least, is to see proof of that._

_-Sakura Saber, Okita Souji_

**Author's Note:**

> the poem in the letter, written by Okita, is the commonly accepted last piece of writing Okita produced. it could be fake but w/e. however, i translated it on my own in an effort to try emulating the original spirit, but its very loose and probably very bad so it's more apt to say the poem in there after nobu's death poem is INSPIRED by the actual piece, and not representing it. nobu's death poem is mine, though. rip im not good at poety.
> 
> OK LOTS OF NOTES TIME
> 
> 1\. Yes, there were rumors Nobunaga's wife Kichou was an assassin, and you know how fate/ universe takes all the craziest and most dramatic version of legends possible to be the truth? YEAH. Will we ever get Assassin Nouhime? God Only Knows.  
> 2\. Nobunaga accepted a glass flask of konpeito, which is sugar candy, from a Portuguese missionary, and that was apparently enough to give the missionary free reign of Absolutely Everywhere to preach. Nobunaga has a sweet tooth...  
> 3\. _Five Women who Loved Love_ is a real book. AS WITH ALL THINGS TRANSLATED FROM JPN TO ENGLISH there is something lost in translation: the title is 好色五人女, and while it's translated as 'love', 色 could technically mean lust too. Thus the sex drive joke. A-anyway, the Japanese didn't really differentiate between love and lust, so--  
>  4\. Mori Ranmaru was Nobunaga's page. Also slept with him. Gay samurais and everything, it's no big.  
> 5\. "the floating world", or ukiyo, is basically an art form/expression that rose in the Edo era. it's representative of the transient material world, and is synonymous for "the sorrow world". it is mostly a genre that encompasses what people see as "decadence", "pride", "beauty" and "lust" and such-- pleasure houses, glorified old tales of samurai, beautiful geishas... an 'artful' representation of a very crude world, basically. these things go against many values that arose in the Edo era surrounding seclusion and Buddhist principles about lack of excess and stuff, so Okita would be against embracing the floating world, etc etc. wow i use fucking complicated imagery jesus im a horrible writer  
> 6\. ninjo vs giri is practically an entire genre of romance in japan. it is also The Only Genre Of Romance, Basically, Because There Is No Such Thing As Happy Endings.  
> 7\. red camellias can mean 'falling in love' but also 'perishing with grace', which is the theme of nobu's death poem. red camellias are all over her last ascension art, so.
> 
> dead asians have sad lives, basically. and in the end, even the Demon King can fall for the tragedy of love 8''''''')
> 
> i tried to make the reason why they fell in love weirdly ambiguous (and kinda creepy, in the end, bcus damn okita u remind me of my dead wife THAT AINT CREEPY AT ALL.) but falling in love in general is weirdly ambiguous i guess ASDF. just slowly enjoying each other's company until it becomes way stronger than intended... rip okita
> 
> those who dont get it: because okita slightly regrets meeting nobu, nobu decides to just never get close to okita in the first place. now okita can fall in love with master and do that valentines chocolate scene and blushing myroom bond lvl 5 lines.
> 
> this was really just self-indulgent and stupidly fucking long for no goddamn reason there is no reason for this fic honestly they kissed like ONCE and then she DIED AND FORGOT EVERYTHING like WHAT IS EVEN THE POINT
> 
> also add me @empressyuan on twitter


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